


An Ocean, Drowning

by Merelymine



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Grief, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merelymine/pseuds/Merelymine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coping strategies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ocean, Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers, again, for Batman RIP and all that jazz. This particular story happened because I was trying to reconcile the Tim that's been in Robin and the Tim that's been in Batman/Detective Comics, who seem to be dealing with things differently.

“You haven’t slept for days.”

Tim breathes evenly into the mats and ignores the statement, tries to find a weak point in Dick’s pin instead.  There isn’t one.

“Tim…”

There’s nowhere to go, and no reprieve in Dick’s voice.  Tim sighs.  “If I agree with you, will you let me up?”

“Only if you’ll go to bed,” Dick answers cheerfully, twisting Tim’s arm a little.

“Ow!  Okay, damn it.  I’ll go to bed.”

“Good.”  Dick sounds pleased, and he lets Tim’s arm go.  He doesn’t get _up_ though, just sits back on his heels, straddling Tim’s thighs.

Tim rolls over, the exercise mat pulling stickily against his skin.  He could actually get away now, pull his legs out from under Dick and go back to what he was doing before Dick had asked him for a spar, but—

Dick’s smiling down at him, sweaty and a little flushed, and Tim really is very, very tired.  He doesn’t feel like fighting anymore, and he doesn’t think Dick’s going to let him get away with anything this time.  He closes his eyes.

It’s always a little chilly down here in the cave, but Dick is a warm presence over him.  Tim’s heart is beating a low thud in his ears, blood pulsing through his body almost hypnotically, and he’s tempted to fall asleep right here.  Down in the cave with the bats and all the other things that still remind him painfully of Bruce.  That probably always will.

Tim opens his eyes when Dick shifts over him, and for a second it seems like all he can see is blue.  Then Dick’s face comes into focus, obviously worried and only a few inches away.  Then closer.

“You can’t keep this up, little brother,” Dick whispers against his cheek.  His hand brushes through Tim’s newly short hair, careful to avoid the still tender skin at the back of his head. 

Tim knows what he means, of course.  He knows he’s been in the same sort of downward spiral that had caught him after his dad’s death.  Living in absolute denial, throwing himself into work with everything he has when he can’t keep that up, and he knows it’s not healthy.  Knows it’s not helping Dick _deal_ with anything and he hates that, he’s so fucking sorry for it, but he can’t—

“It’s healing well,” he says quietly instead.  Dick nods, his smile careful and sad, and completely ignores Tim’s lame attempt at changing the subject.

“I can’t watch you do this to yourself.  I can’t—I need you too much, Tim, I—“ he breaks off, leaning his forehead against Tim’s.

“I can’t do this alone,” he says, and he just sounds so _lost_.  Tim can’t stand hearing it, so he does the only thing he can in this position to keep Dick from talking.  He kisses him.

Pushes himself up and catches Dick by the back of the neck when he tries to pull away.  For a second Tim thinks he’s going to fight, pin Tim back to the floor and demand to know what he thinks he’s doing, but then he relaxes.

Opens his mouth against Tim’s and pushes him back down to the floor.

Dick kisses him slowly and almost _methodically_, like he thinks that mapping out the shape of Tim’s teeth, the ridges of his palate and the underside of his tongue might help him figure out how to fix this.  Fix _them_, and Tim can’t help but try and do the same when he gets the chance.

He pushes his hands into Dick’s hair and licks into Dick’s mouth.  Takes his time learning the shape of it, slow and warm until the cave seems miles away.

Until there’s nothing but the slow slide of Dick’s lips over his own, the warmth breaking out across his cheeks and twisting in the pit of his stomach.  He wants this so much.

Dick sucks on his tongue suddenly and Tim moans into the kiss, curls his fingers tighter in Dick’s hair.

Dick pulls back anyway.

“You know this doesn’t fix anything.”

That’s not really a question.  Tim answers it anyway.

“Yes.”

Dick smiles, crooked and wry and so damn gorgeous it makes Tim’s heart ache.

There’s nothing, _nothing_, he wouldn’t give to be able to see that every day.

“As long as you know,” Dick murmurs.  He shifts down to kiss along Tim’s collarbone, back up again to the juncture of his neck and shoulder where he bites down, sucking lightly when Tim arches up.  There’s a hand sliding down his stomach, and it doesn’t stop when it reaches his shorts, just slides underneath them and tugs them off in one smooth movement.

“You—you too,” Tim manages to say.

Dick doesn’t say anything, just pulls his own shorts off and settles back on top of Tim.  Skin and heat against the cold air of the cave, Dick’s mouth breathing warmth against his cheek as he braces himself on one hand.  Wraps the other around Tim’s dick and it’s awkward between them but so good that Tim almost thrashes with it.  Digs his fingers into Dick’s arms and arches up.

Dick huffs out a breath, his hips moving in smooth jerks against Tim’s.  One, two, three times and then he stops.

“This would be easier…” he trails off, pushes his arms underneath Tim’s shoulders and tugs.  His voice is low and rough.  “Come on, sit up for me.”

Tim helps to push himself up and ends up sprawled across Dick’s lap.  They _are_ closer this way, and the reason for the move becomes obvious when, after a little maneuvering, Dick licks his hand and wraps it around them both.

“Oh,” Tim gasps.  And that—that feels _so_ good, Dick’s hand tight around them and moving. 

He bites his lip, rests his head against Dick’s shoulder and looks down, and it makes it better, _more_, to watch it.

Dick is quiet save for the occasional catch of his breathing, a louder exhalation of air, and this is nothing like he ever thought it would be.  Just quiet and efficient and necessary, but he can’t think of anything to say that will make any of it better.  It’s so far past the point of apology, of _I’m sorry and I love you and I need you,_ that saying anything at all would seem more false than any of the times he’s ever lied.

So he doesn’t say anything.  He can’t.  All he can do is move his hips, thrust into Dick’s hand and against him, and it makes Dick moan, makes him shudder.

Every push of his hips is pulling sound out of him as well, low and whining, and he’s going to come soon.  Can feel it building low, tightening through his balls and making him desperate.  Dick slides his other hand down through the sweat on his lower back, along the cleft of his ass and lower still, fingers questioning and circling, and that’s all it takes.

Tim comes, watches himself come all over Dick’s dick and his hand, slicking him up.  He rolls his head against Dick’s shoulder and shakes with it.

Presses his face into Dick’s neck, ear against his shoulder and tries to catch his breath.  Dick is still moving, hitching him closer by the hand that’s still curved around his ass, his other hand moving slickly and steadily over them both.  Tim looks down again and it’s hotter than anything he’s ever seen, Dick pushing in to his own fist and against Tim, and he’s so sensitive it almost _hurts_ but he doesn’t care.

Just bites his lip again and wraps his own hand around Dick’s.

“Tim…” Dick groans.  He sounds so close, his heartbeat deep and fast under Tim’s ear.

Tim licks his lips.

“Come on, Dick,” he whispers, “ come for me.”

Dick groans, the hand on Tim’s ass tightening, fingers digging in low and still so careful…

“You can.  You can do anything, Dick,” Tim says, a babbling whisper he can’t stop, “anything you want.  You can touch me anywhere—Oh!”

Dick pushes in with one finger, just a little, stinging with nothing but sweat.

“Yes,” Tim hisses, and that’s all it takes.  Dick comes, head thrown back and gasping, all over Tim’s chest and belly.  All over their already messy hands.

Tim breathes, smells sweat and sex, and for a long perfect moment he doesn’t think about anything.

Dick lets go and leans against him, sticky hands moving over Tim’s back and pulling him close.  He presses a kiss onto Tim’s temple, breathing deep and steady.  Tim can’t help but imagine how they must look, sweaty and flushed and tangled together, an island in the center of the mats.

This doesn’t fix anything, of course, it just complicates it.  Tim doesn’t know how long he’ll be like this, and he doesn’t know how to make Dick better, how to make it okay for him.  Maybe they’ll help each other or maybe they’ll just drag each other down, sink like stones in this vast ocean of grief.

Dick sighs and it feels sweetly cool against Tim’s overheated skin.  “Come on, let’s take a shower.  Maybe get some sleep, okay?”

Tim swallows.  “Yeah,” he says, over the voices in his own head that want him to deny, to pull back and fight, to pretend he’s not anything but dealing.  “Okay.”

Dick smiles like everything _will_ be okay.  Stands up and offers Tim his hand.

He takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @ [merelymine](http://merelymine.tumblr.com)


End file.
